


A First Christmas, Once Again

by lalaland666 (orphan_account)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale’s First Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mistletoe, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), its so soft y’all, legit just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21553225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lalaland666
Summary: Aziraphale has never liked Christmas, a fact which likely has to do with the required Heaven-wide meetings scheduled each year on the day. But now, on the first Christmas after Armaggedon’t, Aziraphale is free on Christmas, and Crowley is all too happy to take advantage of that fact and introduce Aziraphale to some of his favourite Yuletide traditions.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 340





	A First Christmas, Once Again

**Author's Note:**

> My brain would not let me rest until i had written this, so here you go. My sincerest apologies for this absolute mess. 
> 
> Like always (bc I’m lazy) this fic is not beta’d and barely proofread, so… sorry. I hope y’all like it regardless!!

Aziraphale had never really liked Christmas. 

Or, more accurately, Aziraphale had never really _had_ a proper Christmas. Given that Christmas was, technically, a Holy Day, and given Gabriel’s general train of thought when it came to such days, Christmas for Aziraphale was generally spent up in Heaven, listening to mind-numbingly boring presentations and never being allowed to sit down and having to recite a litany of the year’s good deeds to Gabriel, and Uriel, and Michael, all of whom had an unfortunate tendency to laugh at the scale of most of them– apparently, saving a baby's trolly from falling into the Thames was not a Holy enough deed to warrant any sort of appreciation. 

But that was behind him, now, and had been for about three and a half months. Which left Aziraphale facing a dangerous proposition; having to spend his first ever Christmas alone, on Earth. 

Of course, he knew of the traditions humans carried on for Christmas. He knew about the decorations, and the presents, and the general carrying-on. He just… never really understood the fuss. By all means, Jesus had been a very kind young man, and Christianity was nigh-overpowering in its influence now, especially in London, so he supposed he _theoretically_ knew why Christmas was such an important date. Not that it was entirely the correct date, either, but that was hardly important in the grand scheme of things. What Aziraphale didn’t understand was why it was such an _emotional_ time for so many humans. He supposed his confusion had to do with not really relating to their experiences. They got to spend the holiday with their families, with the people who loved them. All he ever had to look forward to at Christmastime was a celestial meeting. 

Well, he didn’t have to worry about that any longer. Heaven had quite effectively demonstrated that he was no longer welcome, for meetings or any other purpose. 

And yet again, that brought Aziraphale to the crux of his problem, now. He didn’t have any particular desire to do something particularly Christmas-y, but seeing the customers in his shop, and the people in the streets, feeling the love that tended to just pour off of them at this time of year– heightened particularly this year, he thought, perhaps due to the end of Crowley’s endless meddling in London– made him feel… a little lonely, if he was honest. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted any sort of Christmas for himself. 

This was what led to Aziraphale abruptly ushering out a handful of last-minute Christmas shoppers from the bookshop at promptly one o'clock in the afternoon, locking the door behind them, and settling down in his back room with a book and a cup of cocoa. He was just about to lose himself properly in the book when there was a sudden _bang_ from the front room of the shop. 

“I’m afraid we’re closed,” Aziraphale called, not looking up. He didn’t think he could handle another Christmas well-wisher. 

“Just me, angel,” Crowley’s voice called instead, and Aziraphale felt himself relaxing– entirely against his will– and closing his book as Crowley strode into the back room and sprawled out on the sofa. 

“Well, then,” Aziraphale said, smiling slightly. “I do hope you didn’t break my door, with that noise.” 

“Still perfectly fine,” said Crowley, pulling his ruby-red scarf from around his neck and grinning lazily up at Aziraphale. “Happy Christmas.” 

“Oh, I do wish you wouldn’t say that,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes. “I have grown ever so tired of all the humans saying it, and I rather thought I might get a reprieve with you.” 

Crowley frowned. “You… don’t like Christmas?” 

Aziraphale’s hands fluttered slightly in his lap. “Well. We tended to have meetings at head office during Christmas. And those were generally… rather unpleasant. So, no, I’m not hugely in favor.” 

Crowley’s frown deepened. “You had– meetings? On _Christmas_?” 

“Well, Gabriel had rather a thing about Holy Days, and Christmas was the one most prone to… debauchery, I suppose. He wanted to avoid any angels running off and sinning on a day like this.” Aziraphale grimaced. “I do suppose that might be why he felt the need to have an archangel hovering just over my shoulder the entire time.” 

“You mean you were stuck up in Heaven, with those pricks breathing down your neck, _every single year_ on Christmas?” asked Crowley. 

“Well, yes, that’s what I just–“ Aziraphale said. 

“So you’ve never actually _celebrated_ Christmas?” 

Aziraphale blinked. “I– what?” 

“Have you ever had a Christmas celebration?” asked Crowley. “Y’know, with eggnog and parties and mistletoe and quaint little Christmas villages and terrible Christmas movies and presents and all that mess?” 

Aziraphale frowned. “I– no. And I rather thought you wouldn’t be interested in that sort of thing, either.” 

Crowley’s frown shifted suddenly into an almost dangerous grin. “You kidding me? Genuinely bad Christmas carolers, traffic jams, over-crowded shops and markets, _so much_ gluttony, all the hurt feelings that come with a terrible gift? Christmas is a _great_ time for demons.” 

Aziraphale harumphed quietly. "I must say, dear, you're not doing the greatest job at selling me on the idea." 

"Sorry," said Crowley, not sounding terribly sorry. "C'mon, angel, get your coat on. We're going out." 

Aziraphale blinked. "Out? Where? Aren't most restaurants closed today?" 

"We're not going to a restaurant," said Crowley, grinning. 

"Then where...?" 

"You'll see," said Crowley, holding out his hand. "D'you trust me?" 

Aziraphale didn't hestitate before taking the demon's hand and nodding. "Of course I do, Crowley." 

Crowley blinked. He clearly hadn't been expecting that at _all_. "Right. Well. Um. C'mon, then, angel, no time to waste." He dragged Aziraphale to his feet and headed for the door, pausing only long enough to retrieve his scarf and let the angel shrug on a winter coat before pulling them both outside. 

It was snowing, an unusual occurance in itself, made moreso by the fact it was still December. That thought didn't occur to Aziraphale, though, as Crowley looped his arm through the angel's, striding right past the Bentley. 

"Dear, aren't you–" Aziraphale began. 

"No need," said Crowley, grinning. "It's walking distance. 'Sides, this way, we can see the decorations." 

"It's still rather too early to see them properly," said Aziraphale. "Isn't it?" 

Crowley shrugged. "Then we'll see 'em on the way back." 

They walked for a few minutes in silence, footsteps muffled by the snow, the streets growing slowly more crowded as they approached whatever destination Crowley was heading for with such single-minded determination. 

"Where exactly are you taking me?" Aziraphale asked eventually. 

Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale knew that if he could see past those sunglasses, his gorgeous eyes would be twinkling. "Southbank Centre." 

"Whatever for?" Aziraphale asked, blinking. "Aren't they quite busy this time of year?" 

"They are," said Crowley. "You know what with?" 

"It's a... a Christmas market of sorts, isn't it?" asked Aziraphale, feeling dread mounting in his chest. 

Crowley grinned, his cheek twitching like he'd just winked. "Bingo." 

"Oh, Crowley, I do hope you're not–" Aziraphale began. 

Then he looked away from Crowley's face, and gasped. 

The riverbank was lined by quaint little stalls, pop-up shops selling all manner of goods and snacks. People moved between them, laughing and talking, and the scents of delicious food and drink wafted over the entire scene. 

But that wasn't why Aziraphale had frozen in his tracks. He could feel the _love_ here, practically overwhelming in its intensity, filling the air and seeping into every person walking through. 

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale breathed, feeling tears filling his eyes, entirely against his will. "This is... this is _beautiful_." 

"Thought you'd like it," Crowley said, grinning and tugging Aziraphale along, into the crowd. "C'mon, there's a chocolatier here who makes the best cocoa. My treat." 

Aziraphale followed, still drinking in the feeling. 

It had never felt like this in Heaven. Not once. Aziraphale hadn't even really known it was possible, to have so much love in one place. The market was large, far larger than Aziraphale had anticipated based on what little he'd heard of it before, and every inch of it was infused with the intoxicating feeling. Slowly, though, he was beginning to grow accustomed to it, to begin to adjust to the sensation. Perhaps it was Crowley, shoving one of those paper mugs full up with rich cocoa into his hand, before grabbing his arm once more and dragging him off. Aziraphale grounded himself in the sensation of Crowley's arm on his, in the sound of his voice as he began to talk, listing off some of the trouble he'd gone and caused earlier today. 

Eventually, Aziraphale felt well enough to take a sip of his cocoa. It tasted exactly as delicious as it smelled, and he closed his eyes, savouring the flavour of it on his tongue. 

"Good, angel?" asked Crowley, and when Aziraphale opened his eyes, he was grinning. 

"Wonderful," Aziraphale responded, and Crowley's grin widened. 

"So, what're you feeling up to?" Crowley asked. "There's some shops here, I was eyeing up a new hat for myself, but if you want to do something else–" 

"No, that sounds lovely," said Aziraphale. "A little bit of shopping. I'm afraid I haven't– I didn't think to get you a gift, dear–" 

"Don't worry about it," said Crowley, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Just being here with you is enough of a gift for me." 

Then his face went suddenly scarlet. 

Aziraphale blinked. It had been three months since the aborted Armaggeddon, and in all that time, they still hadn't come any closer to... to anything, really. Nothing had changed. And Aziraphale was alright with that, of course, he was thrilled that Crowley still wanted to spend any time at all with him now that they weren't forced to by circumstance, but... 

But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't hoped that Crowley wanted... more. Like he did. Like he had for thousands of years, now, though he hadn't dared to admit it to himself until that night during the Blitz. 

And if what Crowley had just said was true... 

"Lead the way," Aziraphale said, half to break the awkward silence that had fallen, and half to try and reassure himself that things were still normal. He wanted more, of course, but if he actually managed to _have_ more... 

It was like the love covering the market. It would be overwhelming, and far too much, and Aziraphale wasn't sure how he'd react, if he'd cope alright. 

Crowley nodded, pulling Azirapahle along, his face still red, and Aziraphale followed, taking another sip of his cocoa along the way. 

Once they reached the stall Crowley had been aiming for, Azirapahle couldn't help but gasp in appreciation– it was packed to the brim with little knitted goods, all of them slightly misshappen and full of love in the way that handmade things always were. It was adorable, of course, and Aziraphale pulled Crowley slightly closer, dragging him over to the hats to have a good look at them. 

They spent three hours at the market, wandering between the stalls, buying food and goods and even a couple of second-hand books that were far older than the poor man selling them realised. Aziraphale, of course, miracled the difference in price into the man's lockbox, despite Crowley's teasing. He knew the value of books. 

By the time they were finished, the sun had set, and the snow had begun to pick up. The market was lit up, now, in strings of multicoloured lights, and Aziraphale had to pause for a moment to admire them. 

When he did, he realised just how much Crowley was shivering against him, how close he'd drawn as they walked. 

"Oh, no," Aziraphale said, looking up at his demon. "Dear, are you cold?" 

"M'fine," Crowley muttered through clenched teeth. His nose was pink, and he was tense as a wooden board. 

"No, you're not, you're freezing," said Aziraphale, in what he hoped was a soothing tone of voice. "Come on, dear, let's head back to the bookshop. I can light a fire, warm you up some." 

"I'm _fine_ , angel," Crowley insisted again, his point slightly undercut by the way his teeth chattered for a second before he clamped his mouth shut again. 

"You're obviously not fine, Crowley, you're freezing," said Aziraphale. "You're cold-blooded, of course you're cold. Come along, let's head back." 

And so they did, shopping bags hanging off of them, the walk through the streets perhaps taking a few minutes less than it exactly ought to have. 

When they reached the bookshop, however, Crowley held up his hand to still Aziraphale. 

"What–" the angel began. 

"I want– I want to decorate the place for you," said Crowley. "As a... well. Just 'cause, I guess." 

Aziraphale felt a massive, rather ridiculous grin spreading across his face. "Of course, my dear." 

Crowley grinned as well, despite his shivering, and snapped his fingers. Aziraphale watched the shop's windows light up with the same variety of colours that had been present at the market, and he felt a flutter in his chest– anticipation, he thought. 

"If you have displaced any of my books, my dear, I will be quite cross with you," said Aziraphale, grinning. 

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley muttered, hiding his own smile. "C'mon, angel." 

When they stepped inside, Aziraphale found himself frozen in place for the second time that day. The sop was covered in tinsel and garlands and evergreen boughs and multicoloured lights, all twinkling and glowing and conjuring a sort of cheer that was altogether overwhelming. 

Again. 

Aziraphale clutched Crowley's arm a little tighter, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Dear, this is... this is incredible. It's beautiful." 

Crowley muttered something unintelligable, then shivered again. 

Immediately, Aziraphale let go of him, gasping. "Oh, dear, I completely forgot! Come to the back room, love, I'll start a fire–" he snapped his fingers as he spoke, doing just that– "and put some coffee on for you– or would you prefer tea?" 

"Coffee's good," Crowley said, following Aziraphale to the back room. 

It was decorated back here, too, though a little more sparingly– there was a garland on the fireplace, and a few more around the eaves of the room, and on the couch and armchair were two maching red and green pillows, with the words _Naughty_ and _Nice_ on them, respecitvely. 

Aziraphale chuckled slightly at the sight of it, even as he pulled off his own coat and then did the same for Crowley, steering him over towards the sofa and then heading off to pour the miraculously-prepared drinks– some tea for himself, he'd had rather enough cocoa for the day back at the market– and coffee for Crowley. Then he made his way back into the other room, where Crowley was sprawled out, watching Aziraphale with one eyebrow arched. 

"I'm a demon, angel, you don't need to take care of me," said Crowley, rolling his eyes. 

"Nonsense, dear," said Aziraphale, pushing the mug into Crowley's hands. "You were freezing out there. I want to warm you back up." 

"Hm," said Crowley slowly, closing his eyes. "Y'know, this is a bit of a Christmas thing, too. Sitting in front of a roaring fire and all." 

"Then it fits in quite well with your plans for the day," said Aziraphale, smiling and sitting down beside Crowley. Actually beside him, on the sofa, next to where his head was resting on the "naughty" pillow. 

Crowley tensed slightly at that, then relaxed, tilting his head backwards slightly to look at Aziraphale. "Y'know what else is a Christmas thing?" 

Aziraphale smiled indulgently. "What, dear?" 

In response, Crowley just grinned and snapped his fingers. 

A television appeared across from the sofa, some massive flatscreened monstrosity, the title screen of a terrible-looking Christmas movie already showing on it. 

"Oh, no," Aziraphale groaned. "You're not going to make me watch a Christmas-themed romantic comedy, are you?" 

"This one's good, I promise," said Crowley, grinning. "Lots of love and all that nonsense. You'll like it." 

Aziraphale sniffed haughtily, even as Crowley sat up properly and pointed at the television, willing the movie to start. 

Several hours, a few movies, and two bottles of eggnog– Crowley's idea, again– later, Aziraphale found himself still on the sofa, curled up, with Crowley's head on a shoulder and a blanket over both of their laps. Crowley had protested that he still felt cold, and Aziraphale, in a moment of uncharacteristic bravery, had reached out and pulled him closer, letting a little of the warmth of his angelic essence spill out of himself, heating the room far more effectively than the fire had. Crowley had curled up against him, then, smiling. 

He had taken his glasses off some time ago, and his amber eyes were halfway closed, even as he watched the television screen. They had segued into genuinely terrible movies some time ago, but Aziraphale found that he didn't particularly mind. Not so long as Crowley was there, long arms wrapped around the angel's waist, their breathing in synch with each other. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat, and Crowley's eyes opened properly, locking with the angel's. 

"Is this... have you done this often?" asked Aziraphale. 

"Done what often?" Crowley asked. 

"The, um." Aziraphale couldn't say "cuddling", and not just because the mention of that word would send Crowley flying to the other end of the room faster than being splashed with holy water. Instead, he gestured to their intertwined bodies with his chin. "This." 

Crowley blinked, slowly, lazily, then shook his head. "Nah. Not really. Never really had... someone to do it with. Y'know?" 

Aziraphale blinked. "Oh. I had– I had rather thought–" 

Crowley shook his head again. "There's never been... not like this. Never like this, angel." 

"Oh." Aziraphale wasn't sure what else to say. 

Then he cleared his throat. "So... if you don't... how do you normally spend Christmas, then? Isn't this... part of the tradition?" 

Crowley shrugged slightly, not really able to do so fully without letting go, which he seemed oddly reluctant to do. "I normally... well. I know how the humans do Christmas. I've never really... gone in for it, myself. Mostly just... sleep, honestly. Since you were never here. Was kind of boring, really, without you. Most things are." 

"Oh," Aziraphale said again. "I– I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," said Crowley, shaking his head. "You were stuck up there with those slimy bastards. Being alone on Christmas is way better than that." 

"It's still not very fun, though, is it?" asked Aziraphale, softly. 

Crowley didn't respond. He just stared, those eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. 

Aziraphale drank in the sight of him, feeling a warmth rising from somewhere in his belly, spreading through his entire body, making him feel suddenly light, like he could float right off the sofa if Crowley weren't holding him down, grounding him. Aziraphale took in the shape of his face, the sharp angles of his jawline and cheekbones, the small snake tattoo on the side of his face, the color of his eyes, like rops of molten gold in his face. The thin line of his lips, the curve of his neck, the angles and lines of his entire body, pressed up against Aziraphale's, holding him close. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat softly, then spoke. "I... well. I'm no expert on Christmas traditions, of course. But... I do think there's one you've missed." 

Crowley's brow furrowed. "What–" 

Aziraphale pulled one hand free and snapped his fingers, and above them, a bough of mistletoe sprang into existance, reaching down from the ceiling to dangle directly over their heads where they sat, intertwined, closer than they'd ever been before. 

Crowley's eyes widened, his lips parting further, and Aziraphale cursed himself mentally. 

"Crowley, I'm sorry," he said immediately, making to extract himself from Crowley's grip. "If you don't– I shouldn't have presumed–" 

"Angel, shut up," Crowley hissed, and then his lips were on Aziraphale's, warm and insistent, and his hand came up to cup the back of the angel's head, pulling him close, and Aziraphale yielded, opening his mouth to Crowley, a tiny gasp escaping him as the demon deepened the kiss, and then they were toppling to the side, Crowley on top of Aziraphale, the reassuring weight and warmth of him present even as he drew his head back, sucking in a deep breath. 

"Alright, angel?" Crowley asked, his brow furrowing, and Aziraphale knew he must look a mess, his face red and flustered and his breath coming far faster than it ought to. 

"Better than," Aziraphale breathed, reaching up to cup Crowley's jaw, running his thumb along the line of his cheek, like he'd dreamed for so many years. "I love you." 

Crowley's eyes widened. "You– angel. I love you, too, more than... more than anything." 

Aziraphale felt a smile spreading across his face, and he pulled Crowley down into another kiss, gentle and warm and sweet. 

When they drew apart again, panting slightly, Aziraphale's smile hadn't faded in the least. "I do think I like this Christmas thing." 

"Do you?" asked Crowley, grinning back. "That's good. I think I like it, too, now I've tried it proper." 

"So glad to hear it, my dearest," said Aziraphale, his voice soft, and Crowley shivered slightly, closing his eyes. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, concern flaring up in his chest. 

"I'm alright," said Crowley. "Just... it's been... I've loved you since pretty much the first moment I saw you. Since you said you gave the humans your sword, since you shielded me on the wall." 

Aziraphale blinked. "That... that long?" 

Crowley nodded, opening his eyes. 

Aziraphale pressed another kiss to his lips, short and chaste. "My dear– my dearest, my darling, my love. I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long." 

"S'alright," said Crowley, kissing Aziraphale back, speaking into Aziraphale's lips, so that the angel felt his words more than heard them. "We got there eventually." 

"We always do," Aziraphale breathed back, pulling Crowley closer, kissing him more forcefully, deeper, pouring all his love into the gesture. "We always do." 

They stayed there for a while longer, the endless parade of Christmas movies finally forgotten, their bodies intertwined. There was no rush. No urgency. Just warmth and comfort and love, love, love. So much love. 

As it turned out, Aziraphale thought, he quite liked Christmas after all. It was just a matter of who he got to spend it with.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this mess, I hope you enjoyed it!! Comments and kudos are always super appreciated!!!


End file.
